三月琐记 (w English)

三月了，原应该山花烂漫的，原应该绿意盎然的，今春的山景却和去年一样差强人意。没有足够的冬雨，山勉强绿着，花勉强开着，野麦来不及长高便开始抽穗。而即便是这样的春天，在每日70多度的气温和大太阳下，也很快要转眼即逝了，颇有一种还没有来就要走了的感觉。

 

3月的第一个周六硬拉着几分不情愿出门的某人爬了爬附近那一片熟悉的山丘，见到了零星的几朵罂粟花，和簇拥着在那片山坡上的fiddleneck野花.  fiddleneck开着黄黄的小花，小脑袋像小提琴的弓弯着。记忆中，似乎从来没有在这里见过这么一大片fiddleneck。或许生态环境悄无声息地改变着，这种耐旱的花草在一年年的干旱环境里取代了其他物种，所谓的适者生存。

 

 

 

割过草的山坡 The smell of newly mown grass wisped into our noses. ??

 

枯草和新绿相间, 构成几何图形:) Emerging new grass contrasts against last year's withered grass, zigzagging into irregular triangles.

 

 

 

脚下这座城市

 

后院的枇杷二月底就开始泛黄，感觉黄的比记忆中来得早。今年的枇杷因为疏果不够，加上不见那只大老鼠来偷吃(小老鼠还是常来，但是好像不知道吃)，所以果子长了不少，但都很小，有些小到剥了皮，去掉核，就剩一点点薄如皮的果肉。摘下那些小的放在一边，那干瘪的样子让人都没有食欲，一度差点都要把它们扔掉了。想想果树的竭尽全力，想想粒粒皆辛苦，最后犹豫着剥开来，却发现它们个虽小，果肉不够塞牙缝，却特别甜特别香，那些个大的反而味道不浓，不甜甚至有点酸。或许，小个的果子就是以它的香甜来弥补它们的其貌不扬，大自然的植物真是神奇。

 

比金桔还小的枇杷

这几颗稍微大一点:)

 

金灿灿的果实这次是招徕了乌鸦和松鼠(当然还有小鸟)，好在在家上班的时候被我瞥见了，被我轰走了. 乌鸦和松鼠好像会长记性，轰过一次后好像就没有再来，抑或是趁我不注意来过，只是小打小闹的引不起我的注意罢了。吃一点就吃一点吧， 想起女儿曾说过，老鼠也有它生存的权利呢(她该不是把老鼠等同于人们养宠物的白鼠了吧:))

日子过得太无聊了，所以当一个朋友拉我去学跳舞，我没有丝毫犹豫便欣然前往。记得很年前朋友拉过我去合唱团，我一点不曾动心，觉得太花时间了，又要排练又要演出，不如在家自娱自乐。而比起唱歌，我实在是没有任何跳舞的先天条件，没有跳舞的身高，更没有婀娜的舞姿。可那日在匆匆走完一万多步山路后，我竟然懵懵懂懂地赶去学舞--来美后的第一堂舞课，结果自然是沮丧的。至今只去学了两次，更多的时间是自己上网跟着录像跳，权当是锻炼身体。有了压力就会有动力，因为怕太落伍太有碍观瞻了，平时才会上网学。且跳且珍惜吧:)

 

三月开始，某人的公司也要求员工一周去office两天，因为两人的schedule有点不同，于是就有了我一周一天一个人在家上班的日子。这才体会到一个人在家上班的日子有多好--安静，清心，不用为中午吃什么犯愁，一个人想将就就可以随便吃点，想吃好点，就走进厨房做点自己爱吃的，完全的自我放飞，不用顾忌另一个的感受，这种自由，这种carefree，让我禁不住联想到那些独身主义者，他们的人生一样有他们的快乐所在。还想起自己大半年前回公司上班后回家问某人，是我在家好还是不在家好，某人不甚满意的答复还曾经让自己不爽过。生活中，有些事情就是要自己经历了才能深刻感悟到。

 

生活其实是美好的。无论多么无聊的日子，温暖的阳光、和煦的微风不曾间断过，日光下，每一天都是新的，都值得我们好好度过。

 

附: 最近喜欢上了大欢的歌，他的歌几分沧桑，几分粗犷，打动着人心。有几分像当年的刀郎，却又不同风格。 比如这里的 《一个人》《三生石下》，《今生来世》，《我想你了》《爱上了酒》等等都非常好听.

 

 

A big fat crow flew over, flapping its wings as it heavily landed on the neighbor’s eaves. As it clawed to stabilize on the gutter under the eaves, a hollow dull sound echoed in the air, drawing my attention. Raising my head, I saw a black bird staring at me, chewing something in its mouth.  

Crows are prevalently seen here,  frequenting the valleys as well as cities.  Crows found in our communities like to perch on tops of towering palm trees or tips of pine trees. The presence at the backyard is rare. “What is it eating? Did it store food somewhere in the groove?” I, standing in the backyard, was wondering out loud.

It’s March. Half of my loquats are turning yellow, earlier than I remember. Loquats this years are particularly small, thanks to my negligence and reluctance of pruning. In a small backyard that only has partial sun,  it is a stretch to plant a fruit tree in the first place, and I cannot ask more. What has already sufficiently rewarded me is the process of seeing it grow, from a seed to today’s canopied top, from its first flowers to clusters of golden fruit. They are the apple in my eyes.

While I was relieved from the rat’s intrusion this year, the relief is ephemeral. It later dawned on me that the crow on the eaves was vying for the fruit, as one day working from home, sitting by the window, I saw one crow struggling to balance itself on a bending branch as it lunged for fruit. Then getting off the work and reading in the backyard on 3/22, I was alarmed to see a big squirrel only a foot away. After whooshing them away, I scrambled to the tall ladder and wrapped those low-hanging loquats with netted bags. Luckily, crows and squirrels are intelligent, smart enough to know that they are not welcome here and not to return since.

Wednesdays become my favorite day of the week in the month.  Beginning March, he is also required to work in office twice a week, leaving me alone working at home on Wednesdays. Being able to immerse myself in the solitude and quietness without any interruption, doing everything at a pace of my own, and in particular a respite from mundane cooking,  converge to a carefree Wednesday, an entire eight hours and a home all to myself!

The scarcity of winter rain engenders another scant spring. The mountains are barely green. The stunted poppies bloom only scatteringly. On a warm March day as we hiked on a familiar trail, we saw a galaxy of fiddleneck flowers strewn all over the meadow, a scene we never saw before. With temperatures hovering above 70s for weeks now, soon these drought resistant flowers will also fade into oblivion.